


Trick or Treat

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Filk, Gen, Halloween, Poetry, Romance, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-09
Updated: 2000-01-09
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser and Thatcher assist with Trick or Treating at the Consulate.





	Trick or Treat

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Trick Or Treat

 

Here a ghost and there a goblin,  
A parade of witches and movie stars.  
Little hands so eagerly reaching,  
For candy corn and chocolate bars.

Popcorn balls and candied apples,  
Things they rarely get to eat.  
Are now easily obtainable,  
Just by saying "Trick or Treat!" 

Costumes both bought and made,  
Blowing in the crisp fall air.  
As they clutch their parent's hands,  
And make their way up our stairs. 

The building so large and official,  
But there, a jack-o-lantern glows.  
The symbol to come hither,  
As every American child knows. 

They all knock and say the words,  
Knowing what treats they bring.  
I smile and admire each costume,  
Devil's horns and angel's wings. 

I offer them all some candy,  
Made with maple sugar sweet.  
It's what the Consulate offers,  
As a diplomatic treat. 

Many of them study my uniform,  
With it's red serge and buttons bright,  
They ask if I'm a Mountie for real,  
Or simply dressed up for tonight. 

I tell them that it's really true,  
I'm a Mountie like my father before,  
Wide-eyed they will ooh and aah,  
Then skip off to the next door. 

Handing out candy and friendly smiles,  
It's much easier to try not to see,  
Or to think or to speak or let my heart beat,  
For the witch who's assisting me. 

Her cape of inky gossamer,  
A dress of satin in ebony too.  
It clings and flows and drapes,  
As only black magic can do. 

Long legs wrapped in stockings,  
That a delicate spider's web trace.  
The neck cut low the hem jagged high,  
A brush of glitter across her face. 

Her eyes sparkle a thousand colors,  
She's happier than I've ever seen.  
As she teases and plays with the children,  
She makes an achingly maternal scene. 

Here, with this little cowboy,  
She tells him his guns look tough.  
A little girl with whiskers black,  
Purrs and that alone is enough. 

To release the smile upon her face,  
That smile I so dearly long to see.  
The children earn it so easily,  
But it's never been turned to me. 

As the night drags ever further on,  
Children are fewer and farther between.  
Until we look both ways down the street,  
And not one trick or treater can be seen. 

Alone on the Consulate's cold stone steps,  
In the light of a pumpkin's carved smile,  
A Mountie regards a lovely witch,   
For at once a fleeting and eternal while. 

I realize I've begun to stare,  
Turning away, I feel myself blush.  
But she takes my arm, it's only nine,  
She says there's no reason to rush. 

The trick or treating is over,  
The children have gone inside.  
It's now the adult's Halloween,  
And the witch's night to ride. 

In this dangerous American city,  
No one alone is safe to go about.  
And she asks if a valiant Mountie,  
Could find a way to take a witch out? 

Just a single night of dancing,  
On a night of costumes and masks.  
When no one is really themselves,  
Is that really too much to ask? 

I know that I tread on dangerous ice,  
My control is a delicate thing,  
But I look in those eyes and cannot say no,  
Not one objection can I manage to bring. 

I ask if I too should be costumed,  
She says only if I so desire.  
And I decide to remain a Mountie,  
In hopes the uniform will dull the fire. 

She takes my hand in the moonlight,  
And down the street we begin.  
My skin burns where she touches,  
Can I hold all these feelings in? 

We make our way to a dance floor,  
Where capes and masks abound.  
Here a wizard there a jester,  
Color and falsehood swirling round. 

I realize that while I wear no mask,  
And my face seems open and bare,  
I wear the strongest mask of all,  
More carefully crafted than any there. 

It shields far more than the planes of my face,  
It hides love in my eyes and fire in my heart.  
Far from being in a closet til October's end,  
Every single day it plays an integral part. 

Only in my dreams do I remove it,  
And let myself see her standing there.  
Not just a boss but a feminine beauty,  
Moonlight painting her chocolate hair. 

Lights are flashing and music pounds,  
Though as clubs go I'm told it is tame.  
Not a drop of liquid has passed my lips,  
Yet I'm feeling drunk all the same. 

The witch in my arms has cast a spell,  
Spoken enchantment to the rhythmic drum.  
Her eyes are pools of liquid promise,  
The point of no return has come. 

She presses in scorchingly closer to me,  
Her small body matching the sun for heat.  
Those sweet lips part to whisper three words,  
A sultry invitation of "Trick or Treat". 

No chocolate bar or candied corn,  
Could hold a candle to this.  
As I claim my Halloween candy,  
In the form of a bittersweet kiss. 

The rest of the room melts away,  
As we hold it as long as we can.  
Where do I end where does she start?  
This molten blending of woman and man. 

Flying floating falling,   
In a moment of sweet desire.  
I know it cannot last,   
But for now I'm soaring higher. 

Devil dance with an angel.  
Darkness this is your night.  
For even as I hold her,  
I know that it isn't right. 

Do I feel a tear as I pull away?  
She brushes something from my cheeks.  
We both know we'll don the masks again,  
And wear them all through the long weeks. 

She's the Inspector and I the Constable.  
The cold conventions of status quo.  
But here on the night of Halloween,  
We can be part of a costume show. 

Pretending to be people we are not.  
Matched hearts who do have a chance.  
Who can hold one another and simply love,  
Without rank in between the romance. 

Until the clock strikes midnight,  
She is simply Meg, I'm simply Ben.  
Only two more precious hours,  
So I cup her face and kiss her again. 

I'll treasure these magical moments,  
Keep a single night to which I can cling.  
When the cold wind closes in around me,  
And I can hear the lonely Yukon sing. 

As my lips quest against the softness of hers,  
My heart has remembered how to believe,  
In the power of love and the rightness of us,  
God bless All Hallow's Eve. 

THE END

 

 


End file.
